The Wild Moon by Riley Storm

Chapter Thirty-One

Three days to go until the Wild Moon, and I was out grocery shopping.

“Gathering supplies,” as Aaron put it, which made it sound way more badass than pushing a cart around a store. Probably helped with his ego.

He pulled us up to a giant warehouse. Several other cars were parked outside. I got out of the car, the plush white leather of his Mercedes SomethingFancy-Class–I didn’t know cars, nor did I pay attention when he’d told me–starting to rub me the wrong way. It was too comfortable for me.

“I figured when you said the warehouse district, you wanted to go to one of the markets there,” I said, staring up at the drab, gray building covered in corrugated sheet metal without a sign on it. “Why didn’t we do that or go to a grocery store?”

Aaron looked at me, blue eyes twinkling with laughter. “This is cheaper.”

“You’re such a stereotypical rich dick,” I muttered, falling in step as we walked toward the doors. It was easy to keep up with him, my gazelle legs coming in handy for once.

“You don’t get rich by spending your money,” he replied so easily he must have been sitting on that line. “Besides, your payment won’t cover grocery store prices.”

I goggled at him. “It what? That’s impossible. Though if you wanted it to, you’d probably have to take a lower cut yourself.”

“Not happening.”

“Shocking,” I said. “But tell me, why are we here?”

“The people inside owe me a favor,” he said.

“Right,” I replied as if that made all the sense in the world.

“They don’t want to pay it,” he elaborated. “So, we’re going to get the supplies I need anyway.”

“I told you, I’m not your hired muscle,” I snarled. “You work for me.”

Aaron smiled at me, the look making my legs wobble slightly. “I know.”

God damn him. So arrogant and sexy. I hate it. I hate him. But I wanted him. It was undeniable. I wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let myself jump into the sack with him. That would ruin a perfectly irritating client-employee relationship. A girl could daydream, though.

I needed to step up my game of being purposefully antagonizing, though. Aaron had me way outclassed on that level, and he deserved to suffer as much as I was.

“Well, shall we?” he asked, gesturing at the man-door set into the wall next to the large roll-up delivery doors. “Time is ticking.”

He was right. I didn’t want to be his muscle, but if we had to fight to get what we needed, then so be it.

My wolf, sensing violence, came nosing to the surface. I called on her senses, her strength, and her speed. Shifting was a no-go around humans, but it wasn’t an all-or-nothing proposition. We were one, the beast and I, and with the Wild Moon drawing nearer, a good fight would hopefully leave her tired, making my life easier in the coming days.

“Fine,” I growled. “Let’s go.”

Aaron nodded once, pulled open the door, and waltzed inside. I followed, trying to focus on the interior of the warehouse and not his fantastic ass. My wolf was ready for physical exertion of any kind, it seemed. Fighting or fucking, it didn’t make a lick of a difference to her just now. For me, on the other hand, it made a huge difference.

This is not what I need right now. Focus. You could be in danger. Aaron could be in danger.

You wouldn’t know it by the way he strode into the warehouse, acting like he owned the place. Did the man even know what fear was? Respect for your enemy? Whoever was here, they didn’t respect him enough to pay their debts, assuming Aaron was telling the truth. That meant they were confident. I would have to be wary. If these people thought they could take Aaron, it meant they would be some tough customers.

“What’s this?” I asked, staring around in shock at the inside of the warehouse.

“Have you never been inside a storage warehouse before?” Aaron asked dryly.

Grinding my teeth together so that I didn’t clock him one, I looked. The place was…normal. Brightly lit with all sorts of warning signs, clean floors, men walking around with hard hats and caution vests. It looked like, well, a storage warehouse. Huge racks of metal shelving rose into the heights, stacked full of crates and skids of wrapped items.

“What were you expecting? A secret villain hideout with guns, tanks, and an arsenal big enough to take out the East Coast, all just sitting out in the open?” he teased.

I was blushing furiously, and I hated it. “Maybe,” I growled. “You made them out to be bad people.”

Aaron shrugged, stepping back as a forklift went by beeping loudly to warn anyone nearby. “They certainly aren’t nice. Nice people repay favors.”

“You just love messing with me, don’t you?” I asked, relaxing.

“Maybe,” he chuckled under his breath. “Now, let’s get my stuff.”

I followed him through the warehouse. He walked confidently, knowing where he wanted to go without issue.

“Paul Byron!” he called abruptly as we reached the loading docks, the area open of shelving but filled with skids and items ready to go onto trucks for delivery to their next destination. “I know you’re here! Show yourself!”

Most of the workers nearby ignored Aaron, but he didn’t seem to take that personally.

“What the hell do you want?” a voice spat from behind us.

I turned. The man approaching had to be Paul Byron. Only someone his size could comfortably threaten Aaron. The giant troll approaching was easily six and a half feet tall with a belly to match. His legs were thick as tree trunks. If we weren’t on pure concrete, the ground itself would likely rumble with each step. A beard covered a weak chin, big, bushy, and unkept, the complete opposite of his head, which was bald, and beyond red. Ruddy, alcoholic cheeks completed the look.

“I want my stuff,” Aaron said in a voice so cold I blinked in surprise.

This was the first time I’d heard him speak with anything approaching anger. Anyone who had a shred of intelligence in them should have known not to disrespect someone who could speak like that.

Paul Byron didn’t care.

“Get lost. I told you last time, if you fucked me over, I was done with you,” Byron growled, stopping in front of Aaron, looking down at him by four inches or more.

“I paid for these goods,” Aaron said just as harshly. “I expect delivery.”

“You paid me what you owed me last time, plus interest and late charges. Nothing more,” Byron said. “You want them, it’ll cost you.”

“That wasn’t our deal,” Aaron said, voice going flat.

I flinched at that, and he was on my side. Byron should be blanching in fear. Instead, he just hiked up his denim overalls and laughed.

“Get out of my warehouse, Greiss,” he snarled, dismissing Aaron and turning to go.

“No,” Aaron said, and before I could react, he punched Byron in the face. Bone crunched audibly.

The other man reeled backward under the blow, blood spurting from his nostrils, roaring loudly.

“What the hell?” I hissed, stunned at the sudden development. “I thought you–”

Half a dozen men came charging out from behind various skids, summoned by their boss’ pained bellow. I glanced at Aaron, but he was too busy focusing on Byron. Which meant the rest of them were left to me.

“You and I are going to have some words after this, Greiss,” I growled, mimicking Byron’s contemptuous use of Aaron’s last name.

Even as I spoke, I was positioning myself between the gang of thugs and my employee. I didn’t miss the irony of it at all, either. It was painfully evident. I was paying Aaron to be his bodyguard.

I’ve got to get a better lawyer, I thought to myself, smiling as I positioned myself, blocking the path.

“Out of our way, lady,” said the first thug, a tall, slim man with a thick brown goatee who reminded me strongly of the second-in-command from Star Trek.

Clearly, he lacked Riker’s charm. Shame.

“Sorry, no can do,” I said with a peppy smile. “But if you want, I can help you lose thirty pounds in thirty days? All you have to do is take some pills three times a day!”

“What?” The man blinked at me, then looked at his buddies.

Behind me, Byron shouted angrily. “Stop staring at her titties and get over here, you mongrels.”

“Rude,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “I don’t have any titties for them to stare at. Way to hurt a girl’s self-confidence.” I thought about it, tapping my chin. “Or maybe he’s trying to help. What do you think?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the first thug said, stepping forward, arm extended, clearly meaning to brush me aside as they went to their boss’ aid.

“It’s my side hustle,” I growled the last word as his hand swept toward me, and I moved.

Ducking under his arm, I drove a knuckled fist into his kidney. The man doubled over, and I snapped my upper body down, balancing on one leg. My other leg came up and over my head in a display of flexibility I did not care to repeat, the sole of my foot catching him right in the face as he tried to stand up.

“Ow,” I hissed, my groin shooting bright darts of pain through the rest of me. “That was dumb.”

But I’d always wanted to try that move. Now I knew better. Leave it to the pros. The really, really flexible pros.

“Anyone else?” I asked.

Two more men came at me. “Ugh, fine,” I said, dancing to the side easily, then simply shoving. I used a bit of extra strength, and both men went tumbling down.

They all came at me at once, and I ducked under a deluge of blows. I kicked and elbowed and punched, but six on one is tough, even for a shifter. I drove two of them back, but to do so, I opened myself up, and a knee caught me in the chin.

I saw stars. What I think was a fist–I couldn’t see straight yet–caught me in the temple, and I staggered back.

“Go down, bitch,” the leader snarled, back in the fight now. “You three, go help the boss.”

I heard footsteps clatter as they tried to pass me. I reached out blindly and grabbed hold of one as he went by. I spun and heaved him, using my ears to guide me. I was rewarded by the sound of two bodies colliding and going down in a heap.

Shaking my head, I cleared my vision just in time to see Jaxton drop down out of nowhere and intercept the two thugs heading for Aaron’s back.

“Not today,” he growled.

With backup on my side, Jaxton and I drove in at the thugs, and in short order, we had three of them on the ground, groaning in pain. One of them had a broken arm. I was pretty sure Jaxton had caused serious issue to another one’s knee, but I really didn’t care enough to inspect.

“Enough,” Byron said, spitting blood from where Aaron had him pinned up against a crate of equipment. “Fine. Take your shit, and go.” He pointed at a trio of skids. “Don’t ever come back.”

Aaron stood back, straightening his suit, and nodded. “Thanks, Byron. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Then, he turned and headed for the skids, passing Jaxton and me. “Truck here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jaxton said. “It’s outside Gate One.”

I stared at the two of them, conversing as if nothing had ever happened.

Who were these people? Why had my father ever worked with them? They were insane. Which probably meant I was insane.

In the back of my head, the Soulbond drummed again. It was growing louder with each passing night. I could hear it at all times during the day now. Even Aaron’s presence was slowly losing the battle, the beating of its desire for Johnathan slowly breaking through.

These men might be completely nuts, but they were on my side, and right now, they were the only hope I had to find whatever was out there that was calling to me before it was too late. Before I was changed by the Soulbond forever.